by David Michie
Stepping apart from others in the group, the Queen looked from one to the other of them. Jenkins looked somewhat less pale than he had earlier, but there was still a certain peakiness about his appearance. Simpson bore only a passing resemblance to the boy we had met earlier in the year—a growth spurt had propelled him upwards.
‘It was a great surprise to see not just one of you, but both of you,’ observed Her Majesty.
‘Jenkins has been teaching me the bagpipes,’ explained Simpson, his bass voice cracking sharply into falsetto on the word ‘bagpipes’.
‘It was nice of you, Jenkins, to share your solo.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Jenkins glanced somewhat nervously at Simpson.
‘Earlier today, someone told me that you might not be appearing.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Simpson nodded.
Jenkins was looking at his feet, flecks of pink appearing on his neck and cheeks.
When neither of them volunteered an explanation, she persisted. ‘I do hope no-one was ill?’
‘No, ma’am,’ offered Simpson.
‘Not exactly,’ said Jenkins.
The two looked at each other briefly before Jenkins admitted, ‘I got a bit nervous, ma’am.’
‘I see.’
‘Very nervous,’ he confessed.
‘Oh, dear.’
‘I was throwing up in the toilets,’ he told her, encouraged by her sympathy.
‘It was coming out both ends,’ added Simpson.
‘How interesting,’ said the Queen, in a tone of voice that commanded that this particular line of conversation be dropped, ‘But you made a recovery?’
Jenkins nodded, ‘It was Simpson who did it, actually.’
Her Majesty fiddled with the strap of her handbag, ‘Good for you, Simpson. A few words of encouragement?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I told him to imagine everyone in the audience as naked, thirteen-year-old freshers who he was about to turn the fire hose on.’ His voice was modulating wildly. ‘It seemed to perk him up.’
Jenkins was nodding vigorously.
‘Reframing technique,’ explained Simpson, shoving his heavy glasses back up his nose with his index finger.
If the Queen was in any way startled by this information, she wasn’t showing it. ‘I gather your studies have progressed smoothly?’ she asked Simpson.
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I have been accepted by Oxford.’
‘Well, good luck with your history degree.’
‘Actually, psychology.’
Her Majesty pursed her lips. ‘Didn’t you learn the names of all the kings and queens of Britain since 1066?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I had to learn something to prove a memory technique.’
‘I see.’ The Queen looked philosophical for a while before saying, ‘I have a feeling that psychology is going to suit you very well indeed.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Later that day at Balmoral, drinks were being served in the drawing room, accompanied by vol-au-vent canapés—including several plates with lobster fillings. The weather had continued to be simply glorious and, with only family, dear friends and closest members of the household present, it was a happily relaxed end to another Braemar Gathering.
In one corner, Kate, William, and Harry were playing with George and Charlotte, while Charles and Camilla looked on. Her Majesty was making her way towards them, when Lady Tara approached her with an apprehensive expression. ‘I know this is somewhat short notice, but I was wondering if I could have some time away next weekend.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ The Queen didn’t hesitate. ‘We’ll still be on holiday.’
‘Oh, good!’ Tara seemed relieved. ‘I’m planning a weekend break.’
‘Barcelona?’ asked Her Majesty.
Tara nodded. ‘Richard asked me again, and I thought . . .’
‘Very good.’ The Queen smiled brightly. ‘He changed his mobile . . . thingummy then?’
Tara shook her head. ‘I changed my attitude.’
‘Even better,’ nodded the Queen.
Over with the children, Harry was regaling the group with a story about how, earlier in the day, an ancient Highlander had tried to teach him how to recite the first verse of a Robbie Burns’ poem. Kate explained how she had also been the focus of instruction, with a Scots lady encouraging her to learn the steps of a Highland dance, which she demonstrated to the amusement of all.
Charles looked up at his mother. ‘Were you taught anything today, Mummy?’ he asked, jokingly.
‘As a matter of fact, I was,’ replied Her Majesty. ‘A young man almost let nerves get the better of him today. His school friend gave him some advice I don’t think I’ll ever forget.’
As her whole family watched intrigued, the Queen seemed to turn into Andrew Simpson, lanky and bespectacled, her whole posture and demeanour changing. ‘Imagine everyone in the audience as naked, thirteen-year-old freshers,’ she mimicked Simpson, her voice breaking from bass into falsetto. ‘And you’re about to turn the fire hose on them.’ Everyone laughed.
‘You’ll have to remember that next time you open Parliament,’ suggested Harry.
‘What an appalling image!’ said Charles.
‘Or confronted by the media scrum,’ offered William.
Listening to the conversation on a nearby sofa, Philip seemed about to say something. The muscles of his jaw clenched, lips quivering as though forming the letter ‘b’. He seemed to be about to express himself, before thinking better of it and sinking back into his seat.
Observing his father closely, Charles followed up on what William had just said. ‘They seem to have left us alone this summer.’
‘That’s because of all the baby photos we let them take earlier in the year,’ suggested William.
‘Long may it continue,’ said the Queen to general agreement.
‘Looks like the corgis are off the hook then,’ Charles looked down to where I was sitting next to his mother. ‘Didn’t you have the idea, Harry, of offering them up for a photo shoot?’
‘A few years ago,’ Harry agreed.
‘That’s right,’ said William, turning to his grandmother. ‘You were even going to ask Nelson to write something meaningful.’
‘Kate thought he had it in him to produce a whole book,’ Harry reminded them.
‘Indeed,’ said the Queen, meeting my eyes with a twinkle. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t done exactly that.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Michie is the internationally best-selling author of The Dalai Lama’s Cat series, as well as the non-fiction titles Why Mindfulness is Better than Chocolate, Hurry Up and Meditate and Buddhism for Busy People. His books are available in 25 languages and in over 30 countries.
David is a regular keynote speaker at major conferences. He delivers mindfulness and meditation seminars and courses to a diverse range of audiences. In 2015, he established Mindful Safaris to Africa, combining game viewing and meditation sessions in journeys to unexplored places, outer and inner.
David grew up in Zimbabwe, a place teeming with African wildlife, but home was always with his corgi Tudor, who had an ear that, instead of standing, flopped!
For more about David’s work, go to:
www.davidmichie.com
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